Brushing Off The Ashes
by teammcgonagall
Summary: During/after "Alibi in Ashes:" how the Hardys hear about the latest case; Nancy's breakdown; and two reunions.
1. The Hardys

She struggled to stifle the giggle that rose in her throat as she read his name on her phone.

"Yes?" She dipped her head in embarrassment when she heard her voice: too loud. Glancing guiltily over to Deirdre, she allowed herself a sigh—she hadn't been caught.

"Hey, Bess." God, he was so cocky—he was embarrassing himself, really. "What're you up to?" She could even hear the half-smile in his tone. "I was thinking about coming down for the weekend—you free?"

The innuendo was blaring—as was his volume. She shushed him softly, giggling a bit.

"Can you call me back?" she whispered. "I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Oh? Busy doing _what?" _So playful. "No—let me guess!" Just as she was about to scold him for his loudness, he quieted. "Secret service work? Is your phone tapped? Is someone looking up the barrel of your gun—are _you _looking up the barrel of _someone else's _gun?"

She was laughing outright and could feel Deirdre's eyes snap on her. "I'm undercover on a case," she barely dared to whisper after she recovered her breath—but she was sure she heard Deirdre snort a laugh at her side.

"What kind of case?" Instantly serious—she always marveled at that, how soon Nancy and the Hardy boys could flip from joking to focused in no time flat.

"I'll tell you if you promise to whisper," she murmured, but bit her lip immediately afterwards—_oh Nancy, please forgive me for this!_

"Okay!" She could barely hear Joe's voice on the other end. "What's the case?"

She sighed heavily. "Look, Nancy would _kill_ me if she knew that I told you, so you didn't hear this from me, but it's about arson—somebody burned down Town Hall."

"And Nancy would kill you over telling me that because…?"

"Because she's kind of the main suspect…?" She dragged on the last syllable guiltily, holding her head in her free hand.

"Oh my God, _really?_" Even though he had tried to keep his voice soft, Joe nearly shouted his response now. "You've got to be kidding me! Who in their right mind would accuse _Nancy_ of arson?"

"Well, they're not _accusing_ her, exactly, it's just that she doesn't really have an alibi and was kind of seen crawling out of the building while it was on fire." The last few words were said in an increasingly softer whisper as she let her head drift down her forearm to rest on the cold table; she braced herself for Joe's reaction. There was nothing she could say to stop the tirade that would scream in her ear.

"She—she _came out of the fire?_" The disbelief made his voice deceitfully soft. "But she's okay, though, right? She's—she's not hurt, or in the hospital or anything?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She coughed up a storm when she came out, but that's all. No burns or anything." Bess sighed heavily. "I shouldn't have told you."

"Shouldn't—_shouldn't have told me?_" Here was the explosion she had tried to prepare herself for; as the words screeched in her ear she knew she never could've prepared herself for this onslaught. "One of my best friends just had a near death experience and you _shouldn't have told me?_ How long ago did this happen—a few _hours? _Why didn't she call us? Why didn't you call us earlier—God, why are we _never_ in the loop with River Heights? Were you _ever _going to tell us about this?"

"Look, Joe—"

"No! No, this is serious! We could help—Frank and I are just sitting on our asses today, doing _nothing, _while our best friend nearly _dies in a fire?_ And nobody had the decency to think, "Hey, maybe Joe and Frank should know about this!"? Okay. I'm gonna go talk to Frank and we're gonna book the next flight out to Chicago. See you soon."

The hang up was abrupt and left her staring at her phone with a strange empty feeling. _I really messed that one up, didn't I? _she sighed to herself, spooning up a large helping of ice cream.

She nearly told Nancy the next time she rang, but Bess decided otherwise the moment she accepted the call. Nancy had enough on her plate as it was. No need getting her wound up about something else.


	2. Breakdown

This had not been her first experience with fire: Moon Lake, Pennsylvania, had seen to that.

But there was something inherently different about those two times, something she hadn't been able to put her finger on until she watched Brenda Carlton get arrested on Channel 9 News.

Bess, George, and Ned all laughed around her, but her head was reeling as it made the connection.

Emily Griffin had been acting in a queer sort of self-defense: Nancy had been hot on her trail, so she decided to retaliate by, well, knocking her out and tying her up and putting her in a burning cabin.

But Brenda had not acted out of fear, or self-defense. She had acted out of greed. She had only wanted a story. It was not a quickly-planned reaction, but a deliberately constructed act. And that made all the difference.

"She tried to kill me," Nancy murmured, soft and dazed, and Bess chuckled at her side.

"Yeah—and who hasn't, these days?"

"She tried to _kill _me." Suddenly she couldn't breathe, her eyes stung.

"Nancy?" George's hand rested on her right arm, her tone all concern.

"She tried to kill me." And there were the first tears . "_Kill_ me, kill me! The door was locked—she _locked me in!_" Why was this so different, so much harder? Was it because they knew each other, had gone to school together?

Suddenly she was in Bess's arms, her head resting on her chest while Bess stroked her hair. "It's all right, sweetheart, you're safe." Ned was kneeling at her side, holding her hand. George's hand rubbed her shoulder.

"She—had—no—reason!" she sobbed. I hadn't—she—" Fast, hot tears.

"You're safe now, honey, and Brenda's gonna be locked up for a long, long time." Ned kissed her hand, tenderly.

"I don't—understand," the passion had fled her, her breath was returning, "why she did it. Why—arson? Why—" One last sob.

"Oh, sweetie," Bess cooed, planting a kiss on her temple. "Brenda is a crazy lady and you'll never see her again and she'll never try to hurt you again, okay?"

Nancy nodded against her chest, and sighed, deep and heavy.

"Maybe you should lie down," Ned murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek and wipe away a tear. "It's been a very long day."

"Yeah, that's a good idea, Nan." George stroked her hair. "Go lay down, and we'll stay here and get you whatever you need."

Another nod, and a loud sniff. Slowly she disentangled herself from Bess's grip with a shy smile, and Ned kept his hold on her hand as she stood.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, and tried unsuccessfully to pull herself free from him. He wasn't having any of it.

"I want to help," he said simply, and she sighed.

"Have a good sleep!" Bess called.

"We'll see you when you wake up," George added.

They climbed the stairs to her room in silence, and when they entered he shut the door and finally released her hand. She went to her bed and sat down with a sigh.

"It has been long day, hasn't it?" she murmured around a yawn, but Ned only studied her as he came up from the doorway. She smiled at him lazily. "What?"

"I'm just so glad you're safe." He gathered her in his arms then, almost lunging forward to wrap himself around her. Her hands gripped around his back as he cradled the back of her head, holding her tightly to his shoulder. She inhaled the smell of him, and relaxed. "I was _so _scared." His fingers stroked her hair.

"It's funny: they always say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die?" He nodded against her shoulder. "That—it's awful to say but that didn't happen with me. I just wanted to get out." She laughed a little. "But I think if I would have had time to look back on everything, I would've thought of you the most." He released her then, and kissed her, hard and long, on her forehead.

"I love you, Nan."

"Love you, too."

She reached down to untie her shoes, but his hands grabbed hers. "No, let me." And so he removed her shoes, and her socks, and kissed her feet, her ankles.

"Ned, what—" she laughed as he continued to kiss up her bare legs. When he reached the fabric of her shorts, he took her nearest hand and kissed its palm, its knuckles, its wrist. She watched him and a tenderness came over her; she took his face in her free hand. He leaned into her touch and kissed the inside of her elbow before stretching up to kiss her softly on the mouth.

"Sleep now," he murmured as he pulled away all too soon; like a child she obeyed, and watched him as she stretched back on the bed. He sat beside her and brushed the hair from her face; the motion was calming and warm, and lulled her into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Reunions

"Nancy?" It was not the voice that awoke her but the cautious hand shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes and it was very dark, the only light coming from the doorway. As she turned, she realized she only wore her undergarments but did not remember taking off her regular clothes. A figure slouched over her, and from the outline of the hair she knew it was George.

"Hmm?" She wanted to speak but was too tired to try; she sat up and pulled the covers over herself. She blinked and struggled to wake up; she just wanted to sleep.

"Frank and Joe Hardy are here to see you."

"What?" she mumbled through clumsy lips. Maybe she was still sleeping and this was all a dream. What would the Hardy boys be doing in her home, so far away from Bayport?

"Frank and Joe, they heard about Town Hall and they flew out to make sure you were okay," George gently explained, taking a seat beside her. "They were really worried. I thought their voices were going to wake you."

"Who—who told them?"

"Bess did. She's really sorry, Nancy."

Everything was still moving so fast, but she climbed out of bed anyway, not caring about her nakedness anymore. "I guess I'll go say hi." She went to her dresser and pulled out a nightgown, pulling it over her head and straightening it out against her chest. Then she turned to her closet and ripped out a sweater, and pulled that over herself, too. "How do I look?" she asked, turning to face George, who laughed.

"Beautiful as ever."

The light blinded her as she left her room, and she grabbed George's hand for guidance. By the time they were halfway down the stairs the brightness had stopped hurting and she was beginning to see; and she just had time to flinch as a dark figure ran at her.

"Oh, my God, I'm _so_ glad you're okay!" She was being lifted as the figure placed his—it was a man—arms around her, squeezing her tightly as he raised her from the steps. The arms were trembling and hot on her back and head.

"Frank?" She wrapped her arms around him, too, and squeezed him just as hard. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder. He smelled like sweat and summer air.

He carried her awkwardly down the rest of the stairs. "Let her go, let her breathe—and then let me hug her!" came a second voice, one she happily recognized as Joe's. Frank only listened to his brother to a point; she was relieved when her feet made contact with her living room's floor, but he did not let her go.

When he did finally release her, he kissed her on her crown. "I'm so glad you're okay," he repeated in a whisper through smiling lips.

"Hello to you, too," she replied, returning his smile, before Joe greeted her with an equally enthusiastic embrace.

She laughed as he lifted her from the ground as well, but he lowered her very soon after, and when he did he ruffled her hair, kissed her cheek, and said, "Nice get-up."

She smirked. "Thanks. I worked really hard on it."

Frank was staring at her with an almost uncomfortable intensity, and her gaze shifted from him to Ned, who sat on the sofa; to Bess, who sat guiltily next to him; to George, who leaned against the staircase rail, smiling as she watched.

"So, ah, did—did everyone fill you in, then? About the part where they saved my butt?" The brothers nodded in sync.

"We're still upset that Bess told us and not you," Frank murmured, almost too softly to hear. "We would've liked to have heard it from you first."

"Well, there was the whole _I was in jail _part, and it was honestly no big—" She wanted to finish her sentence with the word _deal _but was distracted by the sound of a key fumbling in the lock of the front door. She turned, confused, but the confusion vanished when the door opened and revealed her father, his face tired and drawn, shoulders slumped, suitcase sitting behind him on the porch. His hair seemed much grayer than she'd remembered.

She couldn't help it as she threw herself at him; he barely caught her. She nuzzled her face into his crumpled suit and breathed him in; he held her so closely.

"Oh, baby doll," he murmured, so tired but so happy, relieved. "Hi, sweetheart. Hi. I'm here." She began to tremble in his arms, and a few tears escaped from her eyes. All that time in the fire, in jail: it had all been an adrenaline rush, making her focus on the present problems. But now, away from all of that and with a clear head, it suddenly rushed to her what could have happened, how she came very close to never seeing her father again. And she held much tighter to him, and murmured, "I love you, Daddy," against the shirt and tie.

"I love you, too, honey."


End file.
